


We Might Not Get Tomorrow

by MissMouse1421



Series: Season 14 Codas [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arguing, Coda, Cuddling Castiel/Dean Winchester, Emotionally Unstable Dean Winchester, Episode: s14e12 Prophet and Loss, Kissing, M/M, Spooning, implied bottom dean winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-20 10:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17620544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMouse1421/pseuds/MissMouse1421
Summary: So 14x12 was supposed to scratch the Destiel "itch" but as I said on tumblr for me they only grazed it. So I wrote this instead! Because that's what fanfiction is for lol.Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Le duh.





	We Might Not Get Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> So 14x12 was supposed to scratch the Destiel "itch" but as I said on tumblr for me they only grazed it. So I wrote this instead! Because that's what fanfiction is for lol.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Le duh.

Dean was dragging his feet by the time he made it into his bedroom. He was exhausted, mentally and emotionally drained. It took everything in him not to collapse face first onto his bed, boots, jacket and all, and settle in for a night of restless slumber plagued by images of a murderous archangel hammering away at the mental block he had constructed in his mind. 

Dean swung the door closed behind him without looking, already in the process of peeling off his jacket and the next outer layer of clothing clinging to his body. He wasn't all that surprised when he heard the distinct 'thud' of a hand blocking the door from shutting all the way. Cas had followed him in, it was something they had been doing routinely for months now, sharing a bed, waking up next to each other. Not so much as of late, though. Not since Michael hitched a ride.

Dean would rather suffer in silence than have Cas lying next to him in bed constantly checking on him any time Dean would twist between the sheets and let out a whimper during a particularly nasty nightmare. That's not what Dean wanted their relationship to be. He didn't want to burden the angel anymore than he already was.

Stripped down to his undershirt Dean made a beeline for the sink and twisted the faucet on until the water was cool to the touch. Cupping his hands together, Dean splashed the trapped water into his face and released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. On top of feeling like he had been hit by a semi-truck, curtosey of Michael making every minute of every day a constant struggle to maintain control, his cheek now pink and tender to the touch ached something fierce. His not-so-little brother sure knew how to pack a punch when needed.

Dean frowned at his reflection in the mirror, all too aware of the figure lingering behind him, taking a step forward, observing him in silence. Dean turned off the water and poked at his cheek, looking for something to do, wincing as he did so.

“I can take a look at that.”

Dean briefly met the blue eyes staring back at him in the mirror before shaking his head and reaching for a nearby towel to dry his face. “S’fine. I probably deserved it.” Dean could feel the tingly sensation of eyes on the back of his head intensify.

“You did," Cas agreed in a flat tone.

Dean threw the towel onto the floor harder than necessary as he turned his body around, only now realizing Castiel was a lot closer than the mirror let on. Dean brushed past him in a huff just as the angel was about to open his mouth, and set about taking off his shoes and kicking them under the bed. Dean had just started working on unbuckling his belt when Castiel's peeved words carried across the room at him.

"We’re not finished with our conversation from earlier," Cas told him.

"I am." Dean continued getting ready for bed in a state of irritation, shimmying out of his jeans and kicking them off to the side. He grabbed a pair of loose fitting sweatpants from his dresser and tugged them on avoiding eye contact with the angel. Everything about his demeanor screamed 'I don't want to talk about this anymore' but that didn't stop Cas from stepping into his space and blocking him from the bed where Dean was currently trying to get to as quickly as possible.

" _Dean_."

“What else is there to say? You're pissed, you've made that very clear. But I’m not going through with it so what’s it even matter now? I told you and Sam we’d try and find another way. End of story.” Dean tried to push past him again looking for an escape, but a heavy hand dropped on his shoulder and forced him back in place.

“No. It’s not," Cas argued fiercely, and the passionate determination in his voice forced Dean to look at him, to see the hurt and betrayal he had been trying to avoid since he learned that Sam had told Cas the truth. "You weren’t even going to tell me about this ridiculous plan of yours. You were going to sail off into the middle of the ocean and get Sam to lock you in a box and toss you overboard without even saying goodbye to me!"

Castiel's voice continued to rise in volume the more upset he became and Dean resented the impulse to yell his reasoning back in the angel's face. He didn't want to fight about this anymore. Why did he have to keep defending himself? Why didn't Cas get it?

"How could you not _tell me_ , Dean?”

“Because I didn’t know how alright?!" Dean exploded, every suppressed emotion he had been bottling up for days finally breaking the dam of his resolve. For Castiel's part he at least seemed surprised by Dean's sudden outburst. "How could I—" Dean abruptly choked on the emotion restricting his throat and swallowed thickly to try and collect himself. The way Cas was looking up at him, blue eyes glassy, eyebrows drawn together in sympathy, head slightly titled to the side, trying so hard to understand — Dean was so gone on him it was almost sick.

"How could I look you in the eye and tell you this is over?” Dean gestured a hand between them, his voice reduced to a scratchy whisper. “After everything we’ve been through, after everything we fought for? I couldn’t do it. I still can’t. So please don’t ask me to. I need you to tell me you get that."

All at once the tension seeped from Castiel's posture and the anger that had previously been occupying his facial expressions morphed into a look of deep remorse that Dean didn't fully understand.

"I do," Cas said quietly, his eyes haunted by a festering secret of his own. _More than you will ever know._

Dean'slips parted and he shook his head, staring at the angel in desperation, overwhelmed by—  _everything_. Dean fell forward crushing his lips to Castiel's, his hands cupping the angel's face, trying to eliminate any and all possible space between their bodies. Cas held them both steady as their lips moved together, a hand sliding down the curve of Dean's spine to rest on the small of his back protectively, the other holding the back of his neck, keeping him just as close.

Dean felt the potential of their charged kiss turning into something more when finger tips hiked up the hem on his t-shirt and pressed into the skin of his back with purpose and  _fuck_ Dean wanted that. Wanted Cas to pin him to the bed and touch him in all the right places, kiss him until he couldn’t remember his own name, fuck him, _love him_ until he was sweaty and sated and encircled by a pair of strong tanned arms holding him like everything was going to be okay somehow. Anything to make him forget the atomic bomb currently ticking down inside his subconscious.

But every time Dean thought about it, something pleasurable, something _nice_ with Cas, there Michael was screaming at him, telling him all the horrible ways he was going to rip Cas apart when — not if — _when_ he regained control of Dean’s body. How he’d make sure Dean was awake for all of it, conscious and aware of his own body wringing the life out of his best friend, his lover. His angel.

Dean made himself pull back, licking his lips with the restraint of it all and feeling like an idiot for starting something he couldn't finish. "We can't," he whispered regretfully. He lightly bumped their foreheads together and allowed his eye lids to slip shut for a moment. "I want to. Christ, you have no idea how much. But we can't. I'm not in the right head space. I can't. I can't..."

Without a word of complaint Castiel guided Dean over to the bed and waited until Dean was comfortable under the covers to ask for permission to join him.  _Screw it,_ Dean thought. If he was living on borrowed time anyway he might as well make it count.

Dean watched in silent contemplation as Castiel changed into a spare set of pyjamas Dean had set away specifically for this purpose, and slid under the covers next to him, his expression carefully concealed from Dean's rapidly tiring brain. Dean had been on his back but shifted onto his side, facing away from the angel. For a moment Castiel thought Dean had turned his back on him, but that worry had quickly faded when Dean reached his arm back and grabbed Castiel's wrist, pulling him forward until their bodies were lined, Castiel's front to Dean's back, and the angel's arm draped comfortingly over his middle.

Dean meant what he said about believing in all of them. If there was any hope of keeping all the good things in his life he had to. Even as he fell asleep to the sound of maniacal laughter echoing in his head, mocking him, Dean clung to that belief just as tight as Castiel clung to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! If you were left disappointed with the episode I hope I was able to satisfy your itch just a little bit :P
> 
> As always comments and kudos are greatly appreciated :)


End file.
